


Knock, Knock

by wonderfulchaos



Category: Servamp
Genre: 500themes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, No one gets a fairytale ending, Pre-Canon, blood bonds, theme - fatal accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderfulchaos/pseuds/wonderfulchaos
Summary: Hearts are like doors. They open with ease, with two very, very tiny keys. Keys called 'thank you' and 'if you please'. In the wake of an accident, Sakuya is willing to say those things and more if it means Mahiru will keep living.





	1. If You Please

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally planning to have this as nothing more than a one-shot ... but after writing it out, I realized I need to write at least two more parts: Mahiru and Tsubaki povs in the aftermath. So look forward to that, at the very least? Hahaha, I need to find more time to write.

Rain was hitting the glass, peppering it with streaks as it dripped and dripped. _A lot like blood_ , Sakuya thought, flipping open his phone and then flipping it shut. It was an outdated thing, but it was also a present from Tsubaki so he couldn't really get rid of it. He was contemplating whether or not to call Mahiru as the rain grew worse, just knowing his friend was probably still awake. Even if the clock flashed midnight each time he opened the phone.

Giving it up as a lost cause, he kept the phone open and hit the call button. He wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, not until he made sure Mahiru was all right. His new friend acted strange when it came to rain, and he had a good idea as to why.

 _The number you have dialed is not currently available_ \- Sakuya flipped the phone shut, shaking his head. Of course Mahiru would have turned off his phone this late at night, what was he thinking. Maybe going for a walk was what he needed. Being cooped up in this stuffy hotel room was obviously driving him a tad stir-crazy, if he thought late night pillow talk with his best friend would help anything.

He slipped on his white jacket, zipped it up over the hoodie he had already been wearing, and pulled the hood up as he stepped out of his room. Hands in his pockets, he made his way to the window that overlooked the city. It was the fastest way to the street, to just jump.

"Oh, and where are you off to?"

Turning slightly to give the interloper a flat look, he pointedly told him, "None of your business."

"Ahahaha, is it puberty? Must be puberty." His master propped his feet up on the table, leaning back in his chair. There were blood splatters down his front. The splatters hadn't smeared, which meant he must have gotten back a while ago. Before it started raining. "Say, Sakuya, what would you do if I told you I ran into some trouble in front of your friend's place?"

Like a switch being flipped, Sakuya was across the room within a heartbeat, grabbing Tsubaki by the front of his robes and forcing the chair to hit the floor with all four legs. "I would ask you what the hell you thought you were doing anywhere _near_ Mahiru."

A bubbly laugh later and Tsubaki was saying, "But it was a coincidence! Promise, promise. Anyway, it looked bad. You might be losing a friend, at any rate."

It took a lot of willpower not to start shaking his master and demand an answer out-right. "What happened?" He was surprised how calm that came out, when inside he was shaking like a leaf. Like a leaf in the rain, battered and about to fall.

More laughter, until finally, "Ah, not interesting at all. You could have at least _pretended_ to cry, Sakuya."

"Tell me what happened to Mahiru!"

"Well, if you insist ..." For a moment, it looked like Tsubaki was the one about to burst into tears. It must have been an illusion, because it was long gone before he could even comment. A trick of the light maybe, a faint shimmer in ice-cold eyes. "There was a fire. Arson, maybe? No clue! By the time I thought to check - well, the smell of crispy flesh is something unpleasant, I'll have you know. Perhaps your friend made it out, who knows?"

The fact it sounded like a question clued Sakuya into the answer. Tsubaki knew exactly what had happened to Mahiru, knew exactly where he was too. "Where is he?"

"Hmm, I wonder."

Sakuya really did shake his master this time, demanding, "Tell me where he is!"

"Ahahaha, funny story ..." Tsubaki thought better of what he was about to say and waved a hand in the direction of the other rooms, sleeve sliding down to reveal a reddened palm. "You can go see for yourself, if you like."

There was only one free room available in this particular suite. Sakuya was off and running before he properly thought it through. Before he even considered why Tsubaki would hesitate to tell him this, and then still tell him despite that hesitance.

The smell of antispetic hit him first, and then the scent of charred meat. He placed a hand to his nose and tried to breathe through his mouth instead, willing panic to stop smouldering in his chest as he stepped closer to the bed. The person laying face-up under the sheets looked more mummy than human, covered in bandages and barely breathing - which was something humans definitely needed to be doing, even if vampires like Sakuya had a choice.

This - whatever this was - couldn't be Mahiru. Mahiru was ... unbeatable was probably pushing it. Though as human and as breakable as Mahiru was, he was also dependable and headstrong and a million other adjectives that Sakuya could associate with strength of will. The very thing vampires longed for and humans thrived on. How could someone this defeated be Mahiru, _his_ Mahiru?

He gripped the edge of a bandage in his hand, the one that covered up half the victim's face, and pulled. It certainly looked like Mahiru with the bandages on, from the curve of his soft cheeks to the stray locks of brown hair; but once the covered up side was exposed, Sakuya took a step back and shuddered. Burns peppered the person's skin, angry splotches across the face, and what hair was left was frayed, twisted. It was the face of someone who should have been in the emergency room, attached to medical equipment that could save his life. Why was he here and not _there_?

"He's about to die," Tsubaki supplied from the doorway. "I'm doing what I can to help, of course. He's having a peaceful enough dream thanks to me. But the fact is, whether it's a hospital or rudimentary first aid like this, your friend is knocking on death's door." A quiet laugh, dry and bitter, escaped his master. There was an edge to his voice when he next spoke. "How fragile humans are, don't you think so too? They promise so much and give so little. Tell me, Sakuya, what would you have me do? Should I save his life for you? Or perhaps you'll say your farewells and move on from this broken child?"

It was a test, Sakuya was sure, but he didn't have the time or leisure to think on it. There was ever only one answer, anyway. It was simple. Tsubaki had to - "Save him," he pleaded. "Please save him."

"All right." No take-backs now. Tsubaki had already rolled up a sleeve, bit into his own skin, and taken a seat on the bed. All before Sakuya could even blink. "I won't betray you, don't worry."

As the blood rained down on dried lips, Tsubaki slid further down the bed and coaxed the droplets down an unresponsive throat. There was nothing but silence for the longest time. Then a startled gasp, eyelashes fluttering open, right before a scream pierced the room.

Sakuya didn't remember much of his own death and concurrent rebirth. It was a blurry mess of images that he would rather forget. It wasn't the same with Mahiru, though. If his friend forgot, he would remember every minute, every second spent wondering if Mahiru's strength of will would prevail. He would remember blood seeping through stark white, would still remember Mahiru fisting the covers as he sobbed, " _Please_ make it stop," in that eroded voice. It was a price he had to pay, he guessed, and would gladly pay if it meant having Mahiru back to how he should be: healthy, strong, and glowing with life.

Once Mahiru had calmed down and the blood had stopped, Tsubaki swiped a blackened hand across his new subclass's face, erasing the most noticeable of burns. It trailed down Mahiru's throat, rejecting the injuries that couldn't be seen, and splayed out across Mahiru's chest in the end. Eyes slipping closed and sunglasses dangling precariously, Tsubaki worked that special brand of magic that Sakuya would never truly understand. It was like watching a saint wash away the sins of man, and wasn't that such a laugh. Tsubaki, a saint?

Or maybe he was, in this instance. He was Sakuya's saint. For who else could he trust? He took in the profile of Mahiru's peace smoothed face and thought, _I'd like to try trusting you, too_. They'd have plenty of time for that. Plenty of time to get to know each other now. Forever even. The idea made something unfurl in chest, easing the panic that had built there. Yeah, forever sounded like a nice dream.


	2. Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mahiru wakes up and realizes a few things. For instance, he's surrounded by idiots.

_This is not a futon_ , was Mahiru's first coherent thought when he woke up sometime in the late morning, sun peeking through the curtains of a window that was too far away. His second was, _I'm going to be late for school_. Then awareness crept in and he sat up a little too fast, dimly aware of bloodied bandages and the fact he should have been a lot more sore than he actually felt.

Beside him, there was a rustling of sheets and he looked over in time to spy wisps of green hair before they vanished like fox fire under the covers. That shattered any illusion that he was alone and left him little time to process _what the hell was going on_. He grabbed the edge of the comforter and pulled it down abruptly, "Get up, Sakuya! Explain what we're doing in bed together."

A sleepy mumble greeted him as Sakuya sat up, much like a zombie rising from the depths of a grave. "Five more minutes, Mom."

"Who's your mom!" Mahiru snatched the closest pillow and swung it square at Sakuya's face. His friend gave a muffled, "Oof," and collapsed back against the leftover pillows, pleading for mercy. "So? What am I doing in your bed?"

Pushing the pillow out of his face, Sakuya grinned wickedly. Much more awake by the looks of it. "Oh, don't remember? Well, you see, I came to your rescue last night. Swept you right off your feet, like a knight in shining armor. And as thanks, you graciously kept me company last night." Before Mahiru could even comment, Sakuya held up a finger and twirled it in the air, wondering, "Now, how much of that was a lie~?"

"Ugh, I don't believe you. This isn't a jo -" A sharp pain in his head had Mahiru going quiet, cradling his head and letting out a noise close to a hiss. Flashes of bright, flickering flames went off behind his eyes when he closed them. Someone calling out to him, telling him to take the outstretched hand before him. A sense of safety settling in his bones even as he could still hear himself screaming. So much agony. Burning, blistering heat. He gasped and opened his eyes, gaze snapping to Sakuya, panicking, "Why am I alive?"

_Was he dead, was this heaven, was Sakuya an angel_ passed through his mind before Sakuya gripped him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake. "Oi, space case, Earth's down here. Trust me, you're alive. Well, as alive as I am ..."

"Huh?" was his eloquent response. It kept things simple, anyway. Unlike this entire situation.

"Er, I think Tsubaki should be the one explaining all of this ..." Heaving a sigh, Sakuya tried to explain, "It's true you were about to die, but someone - I mean, I asked him to - what I mean is ..."

"So what you're saying is I could have died," confirmed Mahiru, nodding as he thought back to the night before. The smell of gas, the sound of breaking glass, the sight of fire inching ever closer. "Okay, I follow that far, but the question is: How am I not?!"

Instead of replying, Sakuya pulled the covers back over his head, singing, "Lalala, can't ~ hear ~ you."

"Don't avoid my question in such an obvious way!" It was like watching a child try to weasel out of chores. "You have to explain properly." Thinking about it, Mahiru added, "That's what Tsubaki-san would want, too. Right? It'll be easier to understand this coming from you. That's what he's probably thinking. Simple. Maybe."

There was huff of laughter from under the cocoon of covers. "You and Tsubaki are nothing alike, Mahiru. That's too funny, seriously. That guy's anything but simple." Curling up tighter in the blankets, Sakuya mumbled out a hard-to-hear, "He probably wants you to hate me. It serves me right."

"What are you babbling about now?" Yanking the covers down again, Mahiru fisted Sakuya's night shirt in one hand and pulled him closer, not satisfied until their noses brushed and he was positive Sakuya was focused on nothing but him. Seeing nothing but him. "Hate you? I don't care what you did! I just want to know what it was. You're my friend. That won't change so easily."

Sakuya turned away, very pointedly. "Yeah, the oldest lie in the book. Besides, it was all a lie to begin with. Our friendship."

"What are you saying?" he questioned on a shaky breath, not quite believing what he was hearing. He let go of Sakuya's shirt. "What do you mean a lie?"

"I ... we only met a few months ago, Ma - Shirota-kun."

It didn't make any sense, though. He clearly remembered growing up with Sakuya; but the longer he thought on it, the harder it was to come up with any childhood memories that had Sakuya in them. There was Ryusei and Koyuki and a few of the girls from class in those memories. Never a green-haired child with an eccentric personality to match. Never glittering red eyes that lit up with mischief when Ryusei talked them into doing something silly. Like that time Mahiru had worn cat ears and ended all his sentences with "nya~!" when they were kids. A time long ago when they could still get away with stupid dares like that. Now that he was actively thinking about it, he couldn't remember any of his time in middle school with Sakuya either. Not until the very end, not until the past few months.

"So ... we just met?" Mahiru asked, to be sure, rubbing at his head once more.

"Mhm," Sakuya was observing his fingernails now, seeming quite content to pretend he wasn't about to cry. "We met in P.E. I snuck in and ..."

"And I talked to you." The fog in his mind was clearing, allowing actual memories to take shape, giving form to truth. "I asked if you were new. I thought your hair was funny and asked how you did it."

"Yeah, you were awfully chatty. Started asking all kinds of questions. 'Wow, your hair is hilarious! Is that natural? Amazing!'" Sakuya feigned a girlish voice and Mahiru flushed, telling him off. He did not sound like that. "Then you asked what I was listening to."

"You lied," Mahiru said flatly, "and told me it was the latest idol group."

"And you fell for it," smirked Sakuya, a teasing lilt to his words. "You should have seen your face when I let you borrow an ear bud."

"Mmm," agreed Mahiru, scooting closer and putting the other boy on edge. Rightfully so. "Say, Sakuya. Was that a lie, too? All of that?"

Somewhat taken aback, Sakuya shook his head. "No, everything after that was ... it was real."

"Good." Curling his hand into the collar of Sakuya's night shirt again, he brought their faces back to where they were before. Then, in one swift motion, he knocked their foreheads together with an audible thunk. "Good. Then you're still Sakuya. Still an idiot. It's okay that you lied about some of those things. It's okay that you were scared to be honest with me. I'll forgive you." He closed his eyes and smiled. "After all, isn't that what friends are for?"

"Oh my," a new voice entered their conversation and the two sprung apart as if caught doing something indecent, both flushing as they caught sight of the phone held up and pointed in their diretion. "No, don't stop on my account! Ahahahahahaha!" The laughter came to a jarring halted, followed by a listless, "Ah, not interesting at all."

"Tsubaki, at least knock!" Sakuya had covered his face with his hands since Mahiru had stolen the majority of the blankets, trying to become one with them. He wasn't succeeding.

"So it is puberty." Tsubaki almost started laughing again, and would have if he hadn't caught sight of Mahiru right then and stopped, tilting his head and giving his guest the strangest look. "You're doing well, I hope?"

How was he supposed to interpret that look? It wasn't sadness, not quite, and it wasn't concern either. "I feel fine. Your hospitality is most appreciated." He stood up on unsteady legs and bowed, sincerely telling his host, "Thank you."

"Don't be so formal," Tsubaki waved off the gratitude, moving at a speed that Mahiru couldn't see and pushing him back onto bed. "Rest, rest. You won't be of any use like this. Snuggle with Sakuya. Watch some TV. Doesn't matter~ It's not like you need to be anywhere right now."

Mahiru corrected, "I have to go to school, though. So does Sakuya."

"You don't have to do anything, Ma-hi-ru," drawled Tsubaki, waving a flippant hand as he claimed a spot on the bed as well. "After all, that's all boring human stuff. You're free to live how you want now." Then, out of his over-sized sleeve, Tsubaki let fall a flower, revealing a blackened hand as he reached for it. He played with the petals for a moment, red off-set by black, before presenting it to Mahiru with a strange laugh. "You're going to love it here."

Hesitantly, Mahiru accepted the flower. "I don't understand; if I'm not human, then what am I?"

"Oh? Sakuya hasn't told you anything?" It started with a giggle and escalated into full-blown laughter, until finally: "Ah, that's no good at all. No, we can't have that. Sakuya, be a dear. Tell your friend what's become of him. The suspense is killing me~!"

"Then die already," muttered Sakuya. Once he dropped his hands from his still red face, he began to explain, "Tsubaki gave you some of his blood. He's ... I'm ... you're ..."

Getting tired of waiting, Tsubaki filled in the blanks, "You're a vampire now. Congratulations!"

It was said in the most simplest of ways and that should have been something Mahiru appreciated, but in this case: "You're kidding, right?" Not that he could think of any other reason he was miraculously alive. "I mean, vampires are ..."

"Scary monsters that lurk in the dark?" Tsubaki snickered and covered his mouth with his sleeve, his half-hidden red eyes dancing in the morning light. "Behind the times, my friend. I'm the updated version! And technically," he leaned in, whispering, "so are you!"

"Right." Glancing at Sakuya, it was obvious his friend wasn't inclined to get involved in this discussion any further. There was a resigned tilt to Sakuya's mouth, a distinctive hunch to his shoulders. It was best to ask Tsubaki if he wanted a real answer. "And we drink blood?" Any number of questions and that was what slipped out.

"That's a silly question." Tsubaki didn't giggle or snicker though, and Mahiru was starting to wonder which was worse. The silence or that obnoxious manner of laughing. "Of course we drink blood. As well as red wine, tomato juice, and strawberry shakes."

"So ... anything red?" hazarded Mahiru, confused.

"No, that's just a preference~!" Afterwards, Tsubaki succumbed to an almost inevitable laughing fit. Followed by a sigh of equal inevitability. "Bored now."

That didn't really answer his question, but it did explain some things. Like why he was hungry and craving a hamburger steak, cooked thoroughly, and not something dripping in blood. Or this could all be one elaborate lie that Sakuya had managed to convince this guy to go along with, but that felt like a stretch. Plus, it was a lot simpler to go with the flow on this one. Right. Vampires existed, so that was a thing. He was turned into one because he was about to die. Sakuya had something to do with that. Tsubaki was the one who made it possible. So, wait. Stopping his thoughts there, Mahiru considered what that meant.

In stories and dramas, he was pretty sure vampire underlings were called thralls. Servants bound to the one that created them. He glanced at Tsubaki, who was staring off into space with an expression that vaguely resembled a pout, as if being bored was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. With how quickly he got bored, Mahiru didn't doubt it was. He didn't seem like a bad guy, but then again, Mahiru barely knew him.

"Hey," Mahiru called. At the sound, Tsubaki glanced back, returning the look. There was a contemplative wrinkle to his eyebrows now. "I have more questions."

In reply, Tsubaki stood and started for the door. _Running away_ , Mahiru thought, fleetingly. "Of course you do," drawled the strange man, "but those can wait."

He didn't call out to him again and Tsubaki didn't look at him again. _Well, what a great start to a relationship_ , he mused, an impressive amount of sarcasm taking over. _So much for understanding anything_. He returned his attention to Sakuya, who was still hunched over and hardly moving an inch. He wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't even breathing. At this point, he was starting to think he would see a lot of stranger things than that.

"Cat got your tongue?" wondered Mahiru, picking up the forgotten pillow in exchange for his flower and smacking Sakuya in the face once more. The petals fell and scattered as he swung the pillow at full force. "I'm going to school, by the way. You coming with me?"

"But Tsubaki said - " Ah, finally. A response.

Too bad Mahiru wasn't having any of the 'Tsubaki said' game. "Still going," shrugged Mahiru. "He doesn't get to decide things like that, ya know?"

Getting back on his feet, swaying slightly, he took to searching for a spare change of clothes. He couldn't really go to school in an oversized t-shirt and boxers. That'd be way too embarrassing. And he doubted they had thought to rescue his school uniforms from the fire.

Sakuya came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Mahiru's shoulders and halting his progress. "Don't go."

Instead of shoving him off, Mahiru leaned back into the embrace, giving his friend a start. Sakuya retracted his arms as if burned, as if Mahiru was still engulfed in flames. That kind of stung.

"It's ok," Mahiru told him, "it won't be for long. I've already missed a lot of the morning classes ..."

"You're pretending nothing happened," warned Sakuya. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

After finding a pair of jeans to wear, Mahiru spun around and poked his friend in the chest. "I know very well something happened, but I'm not going to let that stop me from going. It's because something happened that I'm going. If I just sit around here all day, I won't be able to face anyone. Let alone myself." That said, he snatched the nearest jacket and zipped it up over his too-big shirt and put on the jeans he found. Not the best ensemble, green clashing with blue, but it would have to do. He'd stop by his apartment on the way back and see if anything was salvageable.

"See you later," he called over his shoulder. Sakuya wasn't looking at him anymore.  
  


* * *

  
The school hadn't magically changed in one night, still the same in appearance, but there was something off. The atmosphere felt weird. As soon as he stepped foot in the building, the looks he received ranged from confused to out-right curious, with a distinct lack of recognition in their eyes. It put him on edge until he got to his classroom and spotted Ryusei and Koyuki, relief finally settling in and making him less tense.

"Hey guys, can I have some of your lunch? I'm starving." He placed a hand behind his head, grinning sheepishly. "Long story short, I forgot to eat before I left." _I was sort of in a rush, didn't want Tsubaki catching on._ It was a good thing Tsubaki hadn't hung around after leaving. He wasn't sure what the strange man's reaction would have been otherwise. Then again, maybe he would have just laughed it off.

"I'm sorry," Koyuki's soft, bewildered voice answered. He was hiding behind Ryusei, even if the other boy was shorter. "Do we know you?"

"Huh?" He was saying that a lot today. "What do you mean? Of course we know each other. We practically grew up together."

Ryusei was shaking his head, blond spiky hair bouncing each time he swung his head. "No, I'm pretty sure we've never met before in our lives. Who are you?"

Taking a hesitant step back, Mahiru tried to make sense of what he was being told. It had to be a lie; it had to be, because what else -

Then he remembered what Sakuya had confessed this morning. That tampering of memories to make the truth a lie and lies the truth. That had to be what this was, so if he just applied a little pressure, surely they would remember too. He opened his mouth, about to insist they were friends and prove it with embarrassing stories, but someone placed a hand over his lips, hissing, "Don't do it."

He pushed the hand away, turning to yell at the person who had followed him. "I thought you weren't going to school today, Sakuya."

"Not here." His wrist was caught and he was forcibly dragged from the classroom, mostly because he'd dug his heels into the floor and refused to budge otherwise. "Let's go to the roof."

There was a strong updraft on the side without a proper barricade, so they took refuge off to the side where it wasn't as cold or windy. The roof was damp and there were still drips and drops from the nighttime downpour; but for the most part, it was a quiet, reasonable place to talk without anyone else interrupting. No impromptu lunch dates in sight thanks to the weather.

Speaking of lunch, Sakuya was holding out a bag full of different types of breads. A peace offering from the convenience store down the road. "Here, I thought you might be hungry."

"I am, but - " It didn't feel real that he needed to drink blood when he could eat regular food like this. "Why aren't I craving blood?"

"It's a side-effect, from drinking Tsubaki's blood," Sakuya explained, his red eyes on the ground and not meeting Mahiru's. And that was another thing. He hadn't looked in a mirror since this entire incident had happened. Honestly, he had tried to avoid doing so on purpose. He wasn't sure he was going to like what he saw. Were his eyes the same color now? That bewitching, unnatural shade of red?

"Are my eyes like yours?" Mahiru asked quietly, almost hoping he wouldn't be heard.

Sakuya simply nodded his head.

Leaning back against the wall, Mahiru took a deep, steady breath and then placed a hand to his chest, wondering, "My heart's not beating anymore, is it?"

"Neither is mine," Sakuya spoke, oddly pensieve. "I didn't want you to come here, Mahiru, because I didn't want you to have to take all of this in. Not in one day. You're still you, that won't change, but ..." He cut his words off there, unsure of how to continue probably. That was a first.

"Everything else has changed, is what you're trying to tell me." Holding his hand up, Mahiru studied the bandage peeking out from under his jacket. "It's better if I'm forgotten?" That wasn't how this was supposed to go. It wasn't supposed to be that easy for people to move on. He felt tears building behind his eyes and stubbornly forced them down. It was starting to feel a little more real, this being a vampire thing. The words caught in his throat, but Mahiru somehow managed out a, "I don't want to be forgotten."

With no fanfare or warning, Sakuya drew him into a hug. The hold was tight, maybe a little too tight, but it was also holding him upright when it dawned on him what this meant. He didn't have a place to go back to, not really. Not anymore. He wasn't human; he had no place among humans. So where did that leave him? He wasn't going to say he was better off dead, that would be a slap in the face to the two people who had saved him.

Burying his face in the side of Sakuya's neck, he finally let the tears fall, hiccuping as he sobbed and clung to his friend for a support he couldn't give himself at the moment. A single moment of weakness where he could give in and let someone else hold him up. It reminded him of when he was a child and he would cry into his uncle's arms, unable to put a name to his feelings. The memory slowed and dulled the pain until he could properly think it over, muffled sobs turning into sniffles before they stopped all together and he pulled away, wiping his face with the jacket he'd borrowed from Sakuya.

The stricken expression on his friend's face was worth it and he gave a watery smile. "Don't worry, I'll clean it before I return it."

"You better," scolded Sakuya, one hand on his hip and wagging his finger with the other hand. "That was an expensive, brand name jacket!"

"You probably stole it," Mahiru teased, covering up his red eyes with a sleeve and laughing weakly. "I wouldn't be surprised if you did."

"Mahiru," the serious tone of voice had him peeking out from under the green fabric, head tilted as he listened, "I'll have you know I worked really hard to buy everything I own! Why, I had to memory wipe the cashier and the other customers, and the security guards watching the cameras too! Do you know how difficult it is to alter the memory of so many humans? It takes a lot of dedication. Now ... how much of that was a lie~?"

"... Idiot." None of it was true, if Sakuya was admitting it so easily. Perhaps there was a hint of truth in there somewhere, but his mind was already buzzing with too many thoughts. He didn't have room to decipher any Sakuya-speak, nor the patience. His headache was probably going to last a week at the rate he was going. "So, where do we go from here?"

"We go home," Sakuya told him, taking his hand. "We go back to where Tsubaki is."

Then, it was simple. He would make a new home, with new friends, and move on from the past. If he had to put a name to his feelings at this exact moment, with Sakuya's hand entwined in his, he would have to call it: Assurance.


	3. Who's there?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tsubaki makes enemies like it's going out of style.

There was nothing more tempting than a locked door. The more heavily guarded something was, the more enticing it became.

To Tsubaki, this was how he had lived and coped and managed to keep some sembalance of sanity throughout the years. There was always something that needed to be unlocked. Something that needed to be found and prodded and poked until he knew everything about it. Something he could take an interest in, at least until he grew bored.

For him, the one thing he would never grow bored of was his family. His subclass, as well as his siblings of a different blood. There was no way he could find them boring when they were the only things that mattered to him. One for love, one for hate. Polar opposites, but not so different in the end.

It was for this reason that he had been there that night. If his family found something of importance they wanted to protect, it was his duty as the head of that family to ensure the safety of that something. It was a canvas for Higan. It was his own well being for Shamrock. It was a place to belong for Otogiri. They each had their wants and he let them have it, so long as it didn't get in the way of their goals.

Sakuya's 'something' was much more complicated. At first, he had made the mistake of assuming it had to do with education. It wasn't a bad idea, and so he had arranged the needed papers to make Sakuya's lie into a reality. Then, in a week's time, he had started to notice how unnaturally giddy the boy got every time he went to school - and that was not how it should have gone. It was a beatific smile Sakuya was wearing, but it was not school that had put it there.

In pursuit of the actual cause, Tsubaki had stumbled upon something so outrageously funny that he decided to let it slide. For his own entertainment. It would end soon enough, those idyllic days spent with classmates. He could let the boy have his affair. As a spectator, he wanted to see how far the charade would go. And as a spectator, he would look after the both of them. He couldn't have Sakuya crumble to pieces over a lost love; he wouldn't allow it. There would be no more loss of precious people, even if he had to kill everyone else.

So he had been there that night. No real reason, aside from how curious he was of the boy who had so bewitched his most cantankerous subclass. And in being there, he had also been the one to alert the authorities of the fire.

Before it had happened, he had watched in disbelief as a pair of humans fiddled with a bottle steeped in alcohol, trying to stuff a rag into it. Foolish children, no older than Sakuya, pretending to know what they were doing. They had no idea what they were about to do would effect more lives than their intended target. The bottle was lit and thrown, and it was then that Tsubaki moved forward and snapped their necks, not wanting to touch their blood in the slightest.

It was too late to stop the momentum of the bottle as it crashed through a window. There was a sense of dawning horror in his mind as the tiny flame bloomed into a giant one, rooting him to the spot with the thought, _Too late_. That single moment of not taking a threat seriously. He should have slaughtered them.

He pulled out his phone, snapped a picture of the burning building, and saved it. Then he called the authorities and waited. He waited until he heard it. A cry for help, from the boy Sakuya followed like a puppy. It was a bit old-fashioned, to wait until someone invited him in, but it was one of the few courtesies he entertained.

Kicking out the rest of the glass from the window, he entered through there. The sight that met his eyes was not a pleasant one: the boy on the ground, clutching at his leg where a large chunk of glass had struck and flames encroaching on the boy's right. The child already had burns, some worse than others. He knelt down and plucked out the glass first, startlingly the boy into awareness.

Enough awareness to ask, "W-Who are you?"

Grinning, Tsubaki replied, "Whoever you want me to be." Then he held out a hand. "Come, we don't have time to stop the bleeding."

"Wait, I -" He would never know what the boy wanted him to wait for, though. His hair had caught fire and it spread so fast that Tsubaki barely had time to prevent it from doing more damage than it had already done.

Over the screaming, he told the boy to, "Calm down, it's okay. I'll make everything okay." Oh, what lies. Pretty words were Sakuya's specialty, but he would borrow them this time. It seemed to settle the boy and finally he took the outstretched hand, pulling himself up with Tsubaki's help. Such determination in the face of death. He liked the kid already.

"Sleep now," he whispered, and the child collapsed against his chest, breathing roughly. "Sweet dreams, Mahiru."

* * *

"Blood, blood, everywhere~ And not a drop to drink," Tsubaki sang as he patched up his new guest. It wasn't his specialty either, that honor fell to Otogiri, but he did know some first aid. Though it didn't matter what he did; the boy's heartbeat was erratic and the induced sleep would fall apart soon. Shock, bloodloss, severe burns - none of this could be treated here, and he doubted the boy would have survived the trip to the hospital if he hadn't intervened. The injuries, for one, would have been far worse.

Running a finger along one of the smaller cuts on the boy's arms, he brought the blood to lips and licked it off. He needed to be sure of something before he brought Sakuya into this mess.

The taste was alluringly familiar, made his thoughts race with, _Oh, how nice it would be to live_. The boy wanted so much to stay in this world that his blood was practically begging for it. He couldn't blame him; a child like this had hardly lived through enough pain.

With a wicked smile, he brought Mahiru's hand to his lips, skimming a kiss over whitened knuckles as he promised, "You will." It'd be their little secret.

Then he flipped his hold, caught the boy's vulnerable wrist between his teeth, and dug in. It was addicting, that strong wish to live. He wanted to feel it over and over again. This would be his last chance to savor it. There wasn't the tiniest chance in hell he was going to let this child name him just for the sake of his blood. So that left one last alternative.

Letting go once he was full, he dropped the boy's arm and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. It would be a pain to have blood on the sheets when they had been changed not too long ago, so he reluctantly got to work on bandaging Mahiru's arm. By the time he was done, he was pouting at the fact he had to cover up his own handiwork. He would have liked to see the look on the boy's face when he saw it.

Now to figure out how to broach this subject with Sakuya. Humming, he left the room to think on it. "Blood, blood, everywhere~ But now I've had my fill."

* * *

Needless to say, Sakuya did not take the news well. Furious didn't begin to describe his initial reaction. Deseparation fit so much better. It had taken mere months for this human to get under his skin so well. It was both interesting and absolutely terrifying. The boy could be an asset or a danger. A concealed knife waiting to be unsheated.

He licked his lips. The flavor still there, the sense of longing in his blood, and it was a moment of relishing in that feeling before he followed Sakuya to the bedroom. He had already made a promise and he would see it through properly; but how he handled things from there, that was up to Sakuya. Did he share Mahiru, or did he make a doll he could put on strings? Decisions, decisions.

Either way, the human would be his.

"Save him," Sakuya pleaded. "Please save him."

He briefly wondered how envious Sakuya would be once all was said and done. A thought that substained him as he bit into his own flesh and offered his blood to the sleeping Mahiru. It was a sight he couldn't wait to see.

* * *

The boy was less trouble when he was sleeping, Tsubaki quickly discovered. This was the conclusion he reached after checking every single available room on the floor for his wayward charge. He couldn't find Sakuya either and that could mean a number of things. And to think, this had all happened in the short amount of time since he had stepped out. To pick up goods for a welcome party, no less. Ungrateful brats.

Unprompted, he recalled Mahiru's heartfelt thank you from earlier this morning and his hand was placed over his face with a sigh, struggling to figure out why he was willing to overlook this slight when he would have punished the rest. He pulled his glasses off and let his hand fall back down. There were some memories he was going to have to erase, he could already tell. It was almost funny. Almost.

First, he needed to find them. Then he could laugh as much as he wanted. At their expense.

It didn't take long to pinpoint where they had gone. Once he thought it over, there was really only one place they would have gone - the school. Of course, since he had specifically advised against going there. Mahiru wasn't ready for the full reality of his situation, hadn't Sakuya been the one to insist on that?

When he caught them embracing in that embarrassingly affectionate way again, he didn't bother with them this time. He took a seat on top of the highest structure on the roof and enjoyed the show. It was sad that he didn't have any popcorn, though.

* * *

By the time the boys arrived back home, Tsubaki had decorated their shared suite in ridiculous arrays of streamers, signs, and confetti. So much confetti. It littered the floor, the furniture, any available space it could weasel itself into; he had made sure of that.

"Woah, someone went overboard." Sakuya was pulling that face that he reserved for Tsubaki alone. That 'I have to put up with you, but I am so done with you' expression. He would never get tired of that look. Or the thousands of others that Sakuya made just for him. It was hilarious.

"I ... uh, don't know what to say." It was cute, the bemusement Mahiru was feeling sang in his veins. A resonance left over from the blooding. And he wished it wouldn't disappear. Every time he connected with one of his subclass, it stopped before he could enjoy it. It made him feel emptier each time. "Thanks, I guess," Mahiru admitted, bashful and looking anywhere but at him.

He didn't realize he was staring until Sakuya forcibly stepped on his foot. "Oi, quit it. He's going to notice what a creep you are."

"How mean!" He couldn't help but laugh at that, before abruptly stopping on sigh. "I'm not a _creep_. You wound me."

"Yeah, yeah. I call it like I see it." At this, Tsubaki snickered. "Shut up, Tsubaki. That one wasn't a lie."

"So, is it just us?" Mahiru cut them off before the argument could build. Smart boy, he already knew what Tsubaki was up to and it had barely been a day. "Seems like a sad party." Oh, that wave of pity was not appreciated. At all.

"Of course not," Tsubaki corrected, very pointedly, "they haven't arrived yet. Everyone's busy, you see. We have a bit of a deadline coming up."

"Deadline?" Tilting his head, Mahiru gave his complete focus over to him. Digging for information, wishing to know more. Did he want to hand the boy a loaded gun so soon? Not a chance.

Waving a dismissive hand, Tsubaki brushed it off with a, "We'll put you to work before you know it. Be at ease today. I know I am going to enjoy it." He cackled and moved over to start slicing the cake. "Would you like a big piece or a small one, Mahiru?"

"It would be simpler to cut them all equally," insisted Mahiru, moving to his side faster than a normal human would have. Though he probably hadn't consciously done that. Smiling, Tsubaki handed him the knife. "Like this," Mahiru demonstrated once and then again, "see? You'll have a lot more that way and everyone can have some."

"You're so sweet," Tsubaki cooed as he took back the knife. "It's horrible I had to turn you into a vampire." He stole a glance at Sakuya, who had curled his hands into fists and looked ready to take a swing. Would he get hit if he took it further? There was one way to find out. With a laugh, he swept Mahiru into his arms and placed his lips where a traditional vampire would bite, while the knife settled against his back. "Your blood tastes the best, after all."

A shiver of fright went down his spine. Not his own, but close enough, so he let go with a regrettable sigh; and promptly got his foot stepped on, as well as thoroughly crushed this time.

"It was joke!" chuckled Tsubaki. "Can't take a joke, Sakuya? My, my. Puberty must be so difficult."

"Mahiru, give me your hand." Uh-oh, this wasn't going to end well.

"Did I hear someone at the door? I think I did!" Tsubaki's escape was stopped before it could start as Sakuya grabbed the back of his haori.

"You, stay put."

With little choice in the matter, he waited for the inevitable. Since admittedly, he had dug his own grave with this one. It was the only wound he hadn't healed on Mahiru. He couldn't bring himself to be rid of something he put there.

Once the bandages had been unwound, Mahiru traced the tips of his fingers around the puncture marks and a buzz of consideration awoke in his blood. It didn't seem negative, whatever Mahiru was thinking, but Sakuya didn't know that. One good look at the marks and the boy turned an unflattering shade of red. It didn't do him any favors, this kind of red, a coiling rage that had brought about a calm so deceptive that anyone else would have believed it. Perhaps mistaken it for mortification.

Tsubaki wasn't fooled and that was why he spun playfully out of the way when Sakuya tried to slip a knife into his gut. Inspiring loyalty wasn't his forte. He had intentionally stepped on a landmine, fully aware of it, and opened his mouth to make it worse; but he didn't get that far.

"What are you doing, Sakuya?" That was all it took to snap the bloodthirsty boy out of it. A simple reminder that Mahiru was here. "It's not a big deal. Isn't that what vampires do? I thought we went over this already." The once-human brandished his mark like it was nothing but a mosquito bite and that kind of stung. He'd have to fix that foolishness.

"He could have killed you," muttered Sakuya. "Do you know how much control it takes to stop once you start?"

"Oh." That gave Mahiru pause, then he asked softly, "Will I end up killing someone when this side-effect thing wears off?"

Interrupting before Sakuya could answer, Tsubaki clapped his hands and said, "We're done with the serious matters for now. Put away the pointy objects, Sakuya. Someone might notice. There really is someone at the door this time~!" He skipped to the entrance and opened it as the person was beginning to knock.

A light tap to his head was fine, made him giggle actually, but the person in question was immediately apologetic. "Forgive me, young master! I have disgraced your person and shall -"

"How many times do I need to tell you?" He smiled, and it wasn't a pleased smile. "Don't call me that. Now, come in. You're blocking the door."

There were a few others out in the hallway; they probably met up before coming here, discussed how they should handle a new addition this late in the game. Such practical misfits he had raised.

As soon as everyone was in, he swung the door shut with a bang, accompanied by a steady stream of laughter as he sidled up to Mahiru's side and spun him to face the newcomers. "Well then, time for introductions!"

"Otogiri," the lone woman of the group spoke. "Nice to meet you." After that brusque introduction, she headed for the cake, taking one of the few pieces that had been cut. "Thanks."

 _Thanks for almost dying?_   What a riot. He stifled his giggles in his sleeve, but it was pretty obvious he was laughing. Even Mahiru seemed to get the joke, letting out a huffy, "Ha ha, very funny."

"And I'm Belkia, magician extraordinaire!" piped in the man with the long, flamboyantly pink hair. His tastes in clothes were showy, too; a white suit and striped top hat. Ever the entertainer. "Would you like a performance, boy?" Without waiting for an answer, Belkia grabbed his hat and flipped it around, reaching in and taking out a full-sized box that could hold a human. "Maybe I'll make you disappear!"

That was the magic word of his own undoing. Sakuya wasted little time in placing himself between the self-proclaimed magician and his friend. And by default, Tsubaki - who took a moment to wipe off cake from his knife onto the back of the boy's shirt. He relished the annoyed twitch this earned. Though, it didn't deter the imminent death threat in the least.

"If you so much as _look_ at Mahiru the wrong way, I will saw _you_ in half for the next performance."

Placing his hat back on his head, Belkia held up his hands in surrender. "I was teasing~! Merely a jest."

"Well, go tease someone else."

With a sulk, Belkia went to do just that, joining Otogiri at the table. He was in the middle of asking her if she wanted her fortune told, but she twirled her hand and Belkia's jaw clicked shut mid-sentence. Nodding in satisfaction, she went back to her cake.

"You get used to them," the old man of the group said, shrugging it off. "We're an odd bunch. It's what makes it fun." His red hair was tied up and hung loosely over one shoulder; it slipped and fell behind him with the motion. "Mind if I smoke?"

"Actually," spoke up Mahiru, pushing Sakuya aside with a wrinkled brow, "that should be done in a designated -"

"Oh jeez, kid. Cut me some slack, I'm an old man." A cigarette was put to his lips and, with a snap of fingers, it was lit. "Just to be clear, I wasn't asking. I was telling you. I'm gonna smoke." He exhaled a plume of smoke and recited, "The wren / earns his living / noiselessly. Try it out some time, passerotto."

"Pas - paswhat? D-Did you just insult me?"

"Who knows with the old man!" Belkia shouted from across the room. Otogiri must have removed her strings.

"It's Higan," the 'old man' retorted. "Just because I call myself an old man doesn't mean you can. You're older than me."

Belkia spluttered out a childish, "At least I don't look it!"

"Young master! May I have permission to drag these fools outside and reteach them some manners?"

As much as he would have liked to say _yes, can I watch?_ , he didn't want to scare Mahiru off. Screams of terror were sure to unsettle his delicate human sensibilities, given that his reaction to having to kill someone in order to survive had him feeling sick and it hadn't dissapiated. Such an awful feeling to have linger. So to appease his new subclass, he shook his head and instructed, "Leave them be. It's a party. We're here to have fun~! You're last, by the way. Hurry and introduce yourself, I want to play some games."

Bowing at the waist, the man who had been so flustered at the door proclaimed, "My name is Shamrock and I am happy to welcome anyone who proves useful to the young master." Straightening up, Shamrock locked eyes with a baffled Mahiru and asked, "Are you going to be useful, child?" It was subtle, but the man's one good eye had drifted to Sakuya for a moment before settling back on Mahiru as he awaited his answer. "I refuse to tolerate those that put the young master at risk."

A laughable farce, but Shamrock's dependence wasn't even funny any more. "I believe that's my choice, isn't it? And what have I said about calling me that? Your memory is worrisome." He did laugh at that, though. Then, heaving a put-upon sigh, he wrapped his arms around Mahiru like a limpet and led him off to play some games. "Bored now. Let's play, play~!"

He didn't mind that Sakuya trailed behind them the entire time. It was great fun to watch. The way he bristled whenever someone got within reaching distance of Mahiru, the open hostility he wouldn't have dared display at school. That protective streak would temper itself in time, when he got used to Mahiru interacting with them; but for now, it was better than daytime television.

* * *

After the party and everyone had returned to their own room, Sakuya included, Tsubaki used that chance to sneak back out. The only one who hadn't went to bed was Mahiru, who had stayed behind to clean up, saying that someone had to do it. He had a point, but there were humans that could do that. In the morning. For a paycheck. This child was ridiculous.

Quietly stepping up behind the drowsy boy, he caught him as he began to fall. "I told you to rest," Tsubaki whined, a touch of exasperation in his tone, but he wasn't surprised. He wouldn't even be surprised if this boy took a bull by its horns _simply_ because someone had to stop it. "If you won't rest in your room," and here his voice took on a darkly amused lilt, "you can come spend the night with me."

It didn't seem to bother Mahiru, this suggestion. Instead, he sheepishly admitted, "That might be nice."

In a turn of events, it was Tsubaki that didn't know how to respond. Did the boy not realize what he had been implying? Or was he that naively trusting? Cracking up laughing, Tsubaki wiped a few tears from his eyes. "It might be nice? You hardly know me and you think it _might be nice_?"

"Yeah. I asked Sakuya earlier if I could sleep beside him, but he wouldn't let me in the room. And ..." A flush crept up his cheeks. "I don't want to be alone right now."

How vulnerable, and so very human. Without thinking, he reached out and rubbed his thumb across a reddened cheek. "You're so innocent, I don't have the heart to say no."

It had been a long time since he had felt happiness, so it gave him shock when it flooded his system. Not his, definitely not his, but the blood connection should have severed itself by now. "I knew you weren't a bad guy." Such faith, such delight. Was this what it had been like all those years ago when Sensei had given him a place to belong? Had he ever experienced anything this pure?

"Follow me." There wasn't much difference from one room to another, but there were little personal touches to every room that spoke of who lived there. For Tsubaki, it was the collection of paper umbrellas scattered about the room and a vase of red flowers by his bed. The flowers changed daily, in thanks to Shamrock's obsessive need to please, but they were always red. Today, he had dahlias. Fragance-free and beautiful to look at, exactly what he had asked for after growing bored with sweetness.

Yet here he was, bringing something just as sweet back to his room. "By all means, have a seat." That awkward hovering by the door wasn't going to get them anywhere. They needed to talk, anyway, so this was the perfect opportunity to do so.

"All right," agreed Mahiru, taking that final step in and shutting the door. Tsubaki was tempted to lock it, to startle a response out of the boy, but he put that idea on hold. He could save the playing around for later. For now, he wanted the boy at ease. _For now_ , he would pretend to be what this boy wanted from him.

Once Mahiru was settled on the bed, curled up on one side of it rather than _sitting_ , Tsubaki took the opposite space and relaxed, talking more to the ceiling when he began, "If you have questions about this whole situation, I will answer them now."

"That's not fair," mumbled Mahiru sleepily, "do you always wait until your thralls are half-asleep before saying that?"

Tsubaki nearly choked on air from laughing so hard. "W-What," he wheezed, "what did you just call yourself?"

"A thrall?" Mahiru didn't seem to see what was funny about that. No self-awareness, this one.

"Do you know what those are?" prompted Tsubaki. Helpfully. Giggling between every word.

"A servant, I guess," Mahiru curled up tighter on his side, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around them, "is that not what I am to you?"

His amusement withered, trailing off with a sigh. "I doubt I would let a servant in my bed."

"Then what am I? To you, I mean."

That was the question, wasn't it. What did any of his subclass mean to him? It was, strangely, very simple. "Family."

It didn't have the expected reaction. No warmth overwhelming him like he had been preparing himself for; instead, a deep sadness had nestled nicely under his skin. So familiar in nature that it made him smile. Thankfully, Mahiru's attention was elsewhere and he hadn't glimpsed that instinctual tell.

"I miss my uncle," Mahiru told him after a while. "I'm afraid I'll never see him again. I want to see him one more time, to say goodbye."

That was reckless. It would ruin the illusion they were weaving. 'No such boy existed.' 'There is no Mahiru.' It wasn't worth the risk. "I'll agree on one condition." Mahiru brightened immediately, looking ready to take on the world. Too bad. He wasn't going to make it that easy. "You tell me why someone wanted to kill you."

"Someone ... tried to kill me?" As he suspected, the boy didn't realize. "I don't know why. That's ... I ..."

"Sleep, Mahiru. We'll talk in the morning. You can be sure of that." To guarantee a peaceful sleep, he brushed his fingers through the boy's hair, letting the command seep in. Physical contact always meant he would be obeyed. It was a pain to maneuver him under the covers as a dead weight, but nowhere near as difficult as last night. To avoid worsening the boy's condition, he had had to be so careful. It had been absolutely boring.

The door creaked open not long after, too conveniently timed for it to be a coincidence. "If I didn't think you were a creep before, I'd definitely think it now."

"Oh my. Are you jealous, Sakuya? You can join us, if you like."

"No thanks. I wanted to make sure you weren't trying anything. That's all."

Pouting, Tsubaki inquired, "And what would I have been doing that could be so awful?"

Sakuya, in return, gave him the flatest 'are you serious?' look yet. "I get it. You're keeping him close like this to mess with me, but don't take it too far."

"You really are boring. I already told you not to worry." He finished tucking Mahiru in and then got comfortable as well. "I have no plans to betray any of you."

"I know," admitted Sakuya. "That's not what I'm worried about."

"Then what - ?"

"Forget it." Something easier said than done. Because if it wasn't Mahiru that he was worried about, then what was the problem? "I'll come pick him up in the morning. After you two talk."

"So shameless! You admit to eavesdropping without a hint of remorse. Ah, I knew there was a reason I liked you, Sakuya."

"Creep," Sakuya mumbled as he walked away.

"Don't forget to shut the door!"

"Leave it open."

"I'd rather have it locked."

This time it was the 'I am this close to killing you, don't test me' look. Admirable restraint; Tsubaki had placed bets on how long it would last. "Sure, you do that," Sakuya was speaking pleasantly, and that was a warning sign in itself, "you go right ahead. But just so we're clear, you do that and I'll make sure your new door has no lock."

"Spoilsport." He snuggled up to Mahiru and cooed, "Good children are sleeping now. Why don't you follow their example?"

In retaliation, Sakuya flipped him the middle finger. At least the bad child closed the door on his way out.

* * *

Weeks faded into months, and before he knew it, the beginning of a new year had come and gone. A new year, a new subclass, a new lease on life. It could have been a chance to mend his ways, forget all about revenge, but that was such a foolish idea that he couldn't help but laugh. Each tolling of the bell only made him laugh that much harder.

It wasn't long into the cold month of January that he caught Sakuya doing something incredibly stupid. It wasn't as funny as he would have liked. For one, it involved Mahiru. And for another, they had both almost died.

Ice blanketed the room from top to bottom, but the windows weren't open. Around Mahiru, the ice had coiled possessively, trapping him. Snow White and her tomb of eternal sleep. He needed to call Higan, but first: "Sakuya, you don't mind if I snap your leg in half to free you, do you?" Icy thorns had embedded themselves up half of the boy's leg and he was impaled by what looked like a stake. Made of ice. Mahiru was so _cold_. "I'm going to need the full story, so~ Even if you say no, I think I might do it anyway."

"Okay, okay! Don't touch me and I'll tell you. Why are you so morbid!" Now that was the kind of cooperation he liked to see.

Sakuya went on to describe how they had been attempting to discover Mahiru's power, since the boy had taken a keen interest in it. Not because it was cool (oh, what a joke), not out of fear or a want to be stronger than those around him, but because he wanted to protect his new home. Pure teenage boy until the bitter end. _Friendship, effort, victory._ If only the world were so simple.

"And you let him?" Tsubaki asked. He knelt down beside Sakuya and grasped the winter vine in both hands, stopping it from mangling the boy's leg any further. Then he crushed it, shattering it to pieces. "You know a beginner shouldn't be doing this." He dusted off his hands as he stood. "Get up, Sakuya. Everything else, you do on your own."

Retrieving his phone, he speed-dialed Higan and instructed as soon as the other picked up, "Your flight is canceled for today. Come back, there's a problem." He clicked the end call button before the other could get a word in edge-wise.

It was with a great satisfication that he found a seat and watched Sakuya pull the icy stake out of his heart, breath stuttering for a moment. He wouldn't let the boy die, but neither would he step in until the very last moment. That was his punishment. He did, however, avert his eyes when Sakuya managed to crawl over to his friend, half-draping himself over the ice-bound tomb. The boy even began to whisper things that Tsubaki didn't wish to hear.

He decided to believe the words were all lies and let those were words die here, in the frozen crypt that Mahiru had conjured.

* * *

Higan was not impressed when he saw the state of the room. "Hey, Tsubaki. Do you mind if I gouge Sakuya a little?"

"Oh, please. Be my guest." He hid a laugh in his sleeve as Sakuya gave him the best 'what have I done to deserve this' face. "Does that mean 'a little' fire will do the trick then?"

"I don't know," answered Higan alongside a shrug, "but that's what we're going to find out. Come here, boy."

"You were serious?"

"Deadly." It wasn't one or two of them that had grown attached to Mahiru over the months he had been here. It was all of them. "You do stupid things and stupid things get done to you."

"I like it better when you speak in haiku, old man," Sakuya groused, but obediently stepped forward. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"That's why I'm using you." In one quick movement, the skin of Sakuya's face was on fire and Higan was pulling that fire back down, directing it toward the tomb where Mahiru slept. "This way the fire won't be too strong. I don't want to roast him alive."

"Yeah, yeah. Ow, that stings. Are we done?"

"We're done," said Higan, kneeling to better control the fire and melt the ice. "It'll take a while, but it's better than the alternatives." At that, the old man had the nerve to look at Tsubaki. "Right? Your idea of making a giant oven will have to be put on hold."

"It would have been like sunbathing!" Tsubaki defended. "Everyone loves sunbathing."

"This, coming from a vampire?" Sakuya's laugh was dry and oh so bitter. "You're stupider than me."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Take it outside, you two," interrupted Higan. "You're bothering me."

There was an abrupt silence. Neither of them wanted to leave.

* * *

It was fitting, in a way, to have both fire and ice under his command. Tsubaki had been grateful to have Higan in his service. It was rare to find such authetic goods, such unparalleled bloodlust that it took hold of the heart and gave shape to its will. For him to discover another this late in the game, and that someone to be the exact opposite in terms of will, he was willing to believe this was a gift from fate.

But was the gift a Trojan horse? It would be too funny if he cultivated his own enemy. That was what decided him, though.

"Higan, forget what I asked you before. I want you to train Mahiru."

Nearly choking on his orange juice, the old man coughed out a, "Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise. This will be so much fun!" Tsubaki beamed, propping up his feet on the table. "When he's trained, I can put him to better use. No more of this errand running."

Twitching, Higan advised, "You might want to rethink that idea. Sakuya will blow a fuse." The old man hesistated a moment too long, continuing as if he wasn't sure he should admit, "He has the other subclass wrapped around his fingers, too. It could lead to problems."

"Inner conflict?" mused Tsubaki. "Oh, won't _that_ be fascinating."

"The kid has potential," Higan admitted, "but that doesn't mean we should exploit it. In the cicada's cry / no sign can foretell / how soon it must die."

"Your confidence in my judgement leaves something to be desired." Humming, he rocked up in his chair and decided, "Still, I will go through with this plan. Go now, see how long Mahiru can sing for us."

"You'll regret this," warned Higan.

"Oh, I'm always regretting something. That's nothing new."

* * *

By the end of the week, Mahiru was showing signs of improvement. As well as signs of exhaustion. There were bags under his eyes, his clothes were ripped and torn, and he could barely stay on his feet. He stood with pride, but if this kept up, Mahiru would run his body into the ground. Regardless of the boy's will.

"Ma~hi~ru!" Tsubaki called.

The boy snapped to attention in the training room, a buzz of nervous energy around him. It had been there since the incident, a thread of anxiety spinning its nasty web. If it wasn't for their persistent blood bond, Tsubaki would have purposely overlooked it. Let the boy work out his emotions on his own; but the fact was, it was becoming a distraction.

"Mahiru," he said again, softer, "let's go grab a bite to eat."

Turning away, the boy gave a snort and used the towel around his neck to wipe off his sweat. "I need to shower first. You go ahead."

"You've been avoiding me," Tsubaki vented, impatience seeping in. "What have I done?"

"Nothing!" Mahiru spoke up too fast for that to be true. "It's nothing. Fine, I'll go get cleaned up and we'll have dinner."

"It's morning," Tsubaki corrected.

"Or breakfast," shrugged Mahiru. "Wait here, I won't be long."

It did, in fact, take longer than the boy promised. There was a telling mark on his neck that spoke of why, but Tsubaki obstinately ignored it. He'd save the 'safety first' lecture for when he had the culprit within sight. It would be hilarious.

"So where are we going?" Mahiru asked, tying up a scarf to hide the mark. "I'm starving."

"I was informed you haven't been drinking blood lately," Tsubaki let slip casually, "why don't we go for a hunt together?"

"In broad daylight?" Already shaking his head, Mahiru told him, "I don't think so."

"Well then, let me rephrase that: we are going for a hunt, Mahiru."

Reluctantly, Mahiru gave in. "You're not giving me a choice, huh."

"It's for the best. Your choices are surprisingly dishonest."

The trip into town was silent. It didn't seem that Mahiru was willing to forgive him for that last comment. It was the truth, but that didn't mean the boy wanted to hear it. Always the martyr, giving more than he got. It wouldn't hurt for him to be selfish sometimes, which was why Tsubaki had allowed the dalliances with Sakuya to continue. He had been turning a blind eye since Christmas. How _romantic_ that night had been for them. It still made him want to puke. The whole thing left a disgusting taste in his mouth.

"Hey Mahiru, do you have an interesting story to tell me?"

The boy's gaze carried with it a heavy weight, judging him. "I thought so. You knew?"

"That you were avoiding the inevitable? A vampire can't survive on vampire blood alone, Mahiru; I noticed a long time ago."

"I - " The boy swallowed back his words, averting his eyes to the snow covered ground. When he gained the confidence to speak, his voice could scarcely be heard over the crunching underfoot. "I almost killed someone."

"Yes, that's what vampires do, Mahiru. We kill people." The alley was deserted, so he spoke freely. This would be the best place to wait, but Mahiru kept going, hunching down into his puffy winter jacket.

"I refuse to kill," Mahiru was adamant about that, it sang in his blood, "and I don't want Sakuya to kill either."

"How's that working for you?" laughed Tsubaki. "Tastes bitter, doesn't it? The back and forth?" Before they could exit the alleyway, he scooped Mahiru up into a hug. "Oh, you poor thing. That had to have been awful. If you want a decent meal, you could have just asked me." He bared his shoulder, smiling. "Why don't you try it?"

There was feral hunger in Mahiru's eyes at the invitation. The boy had the audacity to graze Tsubaki with his teeth, right before he was slammed into the wall, Tsubaki's blackened hand holding him by the throat. "Sorry, sorry. My blood was a one time thing. No freebies, Mahiru. If you want it that bad, I will make you a deal."

"I don't," gasped Mahiru, "like your deals."

"Oh, you'll like this one," Tsubaki insisted. "You want to protect someone, don't you?"

"Don't," Mahiru coughed out, "don't you dare."

"You want a reason to be afraid of me. I'll give you one. I will kill Sakuya if you don't kill one of these pathetic humans in front of me. How's that?" He loosened his hold and trailed his hand to the boy's scarf. "It's starting to bother me, you see. It's fine to be rebellious every now and again, but when it weakens you to this extent? I won't stand for it." He pulled on the knot, revealing a sliver of the pierced skin underneath. "It was fine when it was Sakuya giving you blood, but if he takes it from you, what purpose does that serve? Dirty," he removed his hand in disgust, "filthy. It will corrupt you from the inside out."

Hurt tears were welling up in Mahiru's eyes, the pretty red glossing over. It was fleeting, but strangely beautiful.

"Cry to your heart's content," Tsubaki allowed, "but you will kill for me. You will be _mine_." Oh, that hadn't come out right.

"I thought," Mahiru ground out around a tear-streaked face, "that I already was."

"Then prove it to me," compromised Tsubaki. "He who will not work shall not eat." The irony was not lost on either of them.

"Fine," Mahiru told him shakily. "Fine, you win." _For now_ went unsaid. How coy.

Nevertheless, he awaited the next sight he would see with bated breath. Mahiru, drenched in the blood of another. That would be even more alluring than the tears.

* * *

The rest of the month passed them by uneventfully, because much to Tsubaki's displeasure, Mahiru stayed cooped up in his room and refused to talk to anyone. He had sent Higan on ahead to make up for lost time on the original plan, but this was a setback he hadn't wanted to take into consideration. It meant Mahiru was going to be a worthless piece on the board unless they did _something_ to improve his mood.

As the Servamp of Melancholy, he knew his fair share of sorrow, but this sheer level of dissociation far exceeded anything in that regard. Mahiru was going to starve if this kept up much longer, and a starved subclass was never a pleasant sight. He wouldn't allow it to happen on his watch. So, having lost patience with Mahiru's pity party (how dare he forget to invite him!), he kicked the door down and barged in with a loud, "Wakey, wakey~!"

Mahiru didn't spare him a glance, flipping a page in a book he was studying. "You didn't knock, Tsubaki-san." When the boy did look up moments later, he simply blinked at the fallen door. No explosion of anger, no change in expression at all; instead, he stated, "I hope you plan to fix that," and returned to his book.

The dismissal was obvious. He could have walked back out, stood the door back up, and pretended he hadn't literally crashed into Mahiru's room. But that would be admitting defeat and he had won, so why did he have to suffer?

"You are being uninteresting, Mahiru," he whined, slumping against the door frame dramatically. "Let's play. It's been a while since we've done anything fun together!"

With an audible snap, Mahiru shut his book and placed it down on the desk. Slowly, he faced Tsubaki. His eyes empty and his mouth frowning, telling him, "Fun? Uninteresting? What are people to you, Tsubaki? Toys?"

What else were people good for, if not entertainment? "I wouldn't call them toys," Tsubaki said after mulling it over, "more a means to an end."

"And what end are you looking for?" inquired Mahiru, turning back to his desk. His gaze was vacant as he studied the wall in front of him. "I'm at a lost trying to figure out what it is you want."

Moving further into the room, Tsubaki thought about it. What to tell, what not to tell, and what would most appease Mahiru. He decided on a hint of the truth. Not too much, and not too little. "I'm looking for a key," he explained. "I need to find this key, no matter the cost. Someone important to me asked, and I keep my promises."

"What happens when you find it?" Mahiru asked. A spark of interest was lit behind those deadened eyes, and that was what he was counting on. "What does the end look like for you, Tsubaki?"

"I know how much you like simple things," murmured Tsubaki, "so I'll be candid: I want the world to burn."

"Ha - hahaha, _ahahaha_ ," Mahiru was laughing much too familiarly; it was unsettling. He went to touch Mahiru's shoulder, wanting to snap the boy out of it, but Mahiru recoiled. Still, that uncanny laughter had stopped and that was enough. "You should have let me burn then," Mahiru told him, "if the end is the same."

"It may be the same, but the journey is far different." Reaching around, he picked up the book Mahiru had discarded. A fairytale book. "As long as you're alive, don't you think you can rewrite the ending?" He searched through the pages and grinned when he found what he was looking for. "'Mirror, mirror, on the wall'," he recited, "'who is the fairest of them all?' The mirror answered, 'You, my queen, are fair; it is true. But the young queen is a thousand times fairer than you.'"

He peeked over the book, drinking in Mahiru's confusion. "The wicked woman uttered a curse, and she became so frightened, so frightened, that she did not know what to do. At first she did not want to go to the wedding, but she found no peace. She had to go and see the young queen! When she arrived she recognized Snow White, and terrorized, she could only stand there without moving.

"'Then they put a pair of iron shoes into burning coals. They were brought forth with tongs and placed before her. She was forced to step into the red-hot shoes and dance until she fell down dead." Tsubaki paused, giving the ending a chance to sink in. "Delightful reading, I'm sure; but tell me, Mahiru. How would you rewrite this story?"

Interest smoldered behind those bewitching eyes as Mahiru took up his challenge, "I guess I would want to teach the wicked woman a lesson she could learn from, but I wouldn't want her dead."

"Some people deserve death," Tsubaki pitched in sweetly, "but go on."

"I think she should atone for the horrible things she did to Snow White, but death is _permanent_."

"I'm aware," Tsubaki waved him on, "please, don't stop on my account."

Taking a deep breath, Mahiru began to weave his own story. Tsubaki hopped on the desk and swung his legs back and forth, savoring the sound of each word. "'Mirror, mirror, on the wall," he started, "'who is the fairest of them all?' The mirror answered, 'You, my queen, are fair; it is true. But the young queen is a thousand times fairer than you.' The wicked woman uttered a curse, and she became so frightened, so frightened, that she did not know what to do." It was here that Mahiru stopped and reached for Tsubaki's hand, holding on to it.

There was the strangest sense of contentment at the action and he unthinkingly allowed it, lacing their fingers together. "At first," Mahiru continued, "she didn't want to go to the wedding, but she found no peace. She had to go and see the young queen. When she arrived she recognized Snow White, and terrorized, she could only stand there without moving. Then something odd happened. The young queen who should have hated the old queen with everything she had, she ran and embraced her. She thanked her for coming. 'If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be this happy. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have met my prince.' The old queen cried and cried, for the people now hated her and she had made an enemy of the only child - her child - that had truly loved her. She could not atone for her actions and left, never to be seen again."

Tsubaki burst out laughing when Mahiru was done, snatching his hand back just as quickly. "That was wonderful! So naive and absolutely saccharine!" Giggles subsided and cut off with a sigh. "But alas, the wicked queen should be hanged. If you don't make them pay, how will they learn?"

"Sometimes," Mahiru told him, "you have to trust people to figure things out on their own."

There were two firm knocks to the door frame as someone called in, "Oi, you two fighting? What's going on?"

"Sakuya," a sheepish smile bloomed on Mahiru's face, the boy rubbing at the back of his neck where the skin had thankfully healed. "No, we're not fighting. Tsubaki was telling me a story."

Kicking up an eyebrow, Sakuya asked, "Yeah? That's rare."

"Oh, I got one in return," dismissed Tsubaki. "It was a great learning experience."

"Ha ha," Mahiru mocked him, how catty (how cute). "Come on, Sakuya, I could use some food."

"Remember, dearest," Tsubaki sang after them, "bloody lambs are more filling than bloody corpses!"

He ducked when Sakuya threw a knife at him and chuckled as it hit the wall. At least it would be more interesting to look at now.

* * *

With Higan gone, Tsubaki had taken over Mahiru's training. It went well for all of two days before he was whining and complaining. "You're doing it wrong, Mahiru." "I asked you to impale me with ice, what is this? A half-finished slushie? That's hilarious." "I know you want to be a special snowflake, Mahiru, but can you tone down the blizzards?"

They weren't a compatible team, and he was disappointed with his own lack of foresight. He should have spied on Higan's sessions more. Maybe then he would have known what he was supposed to be doing, since he had never trained anyone before. There hadn't been a need to do so. Either his subclass knew how to fight or they did not; and if they didn't and they wanted to learn, they learned on their own. Tsubaki didn't help, but he didn't deter anyone from learning. If they wanted to be useful, then he would use them.

This was a first for him. This want to provide for someone else. He wanted to build Mahiru up, and then tear him back down again. It was an exciting thought. And Mahiru was letting him, fully aware of what awaited. If that didn't send a thrill through him, then nothing else would at this point.

Nevertheless, he had to figure out how to mentor or his 'student' was going to protest. He could already envision the picket signs. Mahiru would probably revel in making them. 'Tsubaki, the slave driver.' 'Tsubaki, the Worst Motivator in the World.' 'Tsubaki, STOP LAUGHING ALREADY.' As amusing as that would be, he would rather have Mahiru give him a little credit. He had no idea what he was doing, sure, but he was trying. It just got so boring, so quickly.

"Ok, I'm going to stop you there," Mahiru told him one particularly difficult afternoon. "You're antagonizing me on purpose and this is getting us no where. I am this close," Mahiru held up two fingers. They were touching. "This close to freezing you to the floor and walking out."

"Mahiru dearest, my feet ..." He pouted as the thorny ice vines curled around his legs, holding him in place. "Can't we talk about this?"

"Sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of me leaving."

"Mahiru, that's not very nice." It didn't take much effort to drag his feet free of the fragile vines. It would have been a different matter if the boy could control the density, but Mahiru avoided any suggestions he made. Not unwarranted. Still, it was frustrating. This constant rejection. How did Higan deal with it? Did Higan even have the same problem? "I see we're at an impasse. Why don't _you_ tell _me_ what it is you want to do?"

That had a favorable response; Mahiru stopped with his hand on the door. "You're serious?" he questioned, uncertain. "Or are you only asking to make what I want into a joke again?"

So that was where the problem resided. "I do care, Mahiru. Really deep down. I take everyone's opinion into consideration."

"Yeah," mumbled Mahiru, "and ignore them."

"Well?"

After a moment's deliberation, Mahiru spun to face him, his arms crossing across his chest. "I want to use this power for myself." There was more to it than that, of course there was, but Mahiru wasn't forthcoming with the rest.

"All right. Is this teenage rebellion? I can get behind that. Even little sparrows need a chance to leave the nest. Fine," agreed Tsubaki, "you can use your power how you see fit. What does that change?"

"It means," Mahiru told him, obstinate, "that I will use this power to _never_ kill again."

"Oh, what's this? You're blaming me? That was your choice, Mahiru, don't run from reality." Sighing out of boredom (really, what a tedious conversation), he asked, "Is that all?"

"No," Mahiru shook his head, "I want to practice restraining someone without inflicting injury."

"Absurd," commented Tsubaki.

"I want to be able to save someone and not risk hurting them in the process."

"Foolish," added in Tsubaki.

"I want you to look at me and see a person, not a _thing_. This is me saying I refuse to let you use me, Tsubaki. The games end here. And that is what I want."

A bold statement for a child that could barely feed himself. He had promised not to make this into a joke, though. And as difficult as it was not to laugh, he had to take this seriously or they would get no where, just as Mahiru said. "Is that so. Then, in that case," he pushed his sleeve up, revealing the sword he had drawn into being, his blackened hand skimming the blade as he picked it up with his left. "Let's fight. For real, no holding back. You will show me all that you want. Show me," he dared, "how you can fight without hurting me. Show me how you can save me without injuring me. Show me, Mahiru, how you can win without killing."

To retaliate the room went white, a raging blizzard within the span of seconds. A nice defense, but a disadvantage to both sides. If Mahiru thought he could use such a tactic to sneak up on him, he was gravely mistake. Giggling, he parried the blow aimed at his back without turning. Upon impact, the ice snapped in half and his blade began to glisten with water, which was quickly freezing. It wasn't a bad idea, since it would stop a normal opponent, but Tsubaki didn't really care that his hand was wrapped in tendrils of ice. He didn't care that his skin was sticking to the metal. He didn't care that Mahiru was trying to make him let go of his weapon.

 _You do stupid things_ , Higan had said, _and stupid things get done to you_. Perhaps Mahiru needed to be taught that lesson, too. With a distorted grin, he swung his sword down onto the hasty ice shield Mahiru had put together. It shattered into tiny pieces and the boy let out a cry, his own ice betraying him and digging into his skin. To make matters worse, Tsubaki had placed his sword against the boy's throat, drawing a line of blood. Gorgeous and oh so shredded, from his dignity to his appearance. And the boy's blood, so soft and cloying, whispered to him, _I don't want to die, I don't want to die, please don't kill me_.

It would be easy to lean in and make the boy disappear, but that was such a boring idea. Instead, he removed his sword and touched the blood there. He brought it to his mouth and licked each finger clean. "Not nearly as filthy as I thought. But let's end it here for today. Maybe tomorrow you'll have better luck showing me what it is you want, hm~?"

The glare he received was chilling, but that was probably from the room temperature.

* * *

Mahiru didn't take back his words and Tsubaki kept up the pretense. If the boy wanted it this way, then so be it. It was actually getting kind of fun, the pointless fights that always ended with a clear winner: Tsubaki. His trophy, the boy's blood, was the best reward. Because each time he earned it, each time he wasted it needlessly, Mahiru was that much closer to giving in. Being consumed by instinctive need. He was that much closer to witnessing the same sight he had seared into his mind: Mahiru drenched in someone else's blood, panting hard, his own ice curling around him like snakes. A child as white as snow, red as blood, and black as night.

Eventually it did escalate to the point where Mahiru had no choice but to feed. And of course, he did what would anger Tsubaki the most: taking it from another subclass. Not Sakuya this time, a small mercy, but one of the many lower-ranked ones. Lilac, if he wasn't getting names mixed up. It wasn't Mahiru that flustered at being found, though. It was the other boy he was still drinking from (by the wrist, in an oh so polite manner).

"My, you do get around." That seemed to do the trick and Mahiru released Lilac, sighing as he wiped his mouth. "You never did ask for _my_ blood again."

"Your prices are too steep," replied Mahiru, bandaging Lilac's hand in gentle, precise motions. "Besides, it probably tastes awful." Lilac squeaked and buried his face in his hands when Mahiru was done. "Is there something you need?"

"I finally have a task you might like, Mahiru. Aren't you happy? I thought long and hard about it and came up with the perfect solution. It's a search and retrieval mission! Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Your idea of fun or mine?" quipped Mahiru, but he followed when Tsubaki beckoned and that was all that really mattered.

* * *

As simple as the 'mission' had been, it didn't go as planned. It wouldn't have been such a huge blow, but they had lost one precious asset: Mahiru.

That accursed cat just had to take what wasn't his. Admittedly, Belkia should have known better than to act on a civilian street and threaten humans in front of Mahiru. That was asking for trouble. Not only that, those human friends that the boy couldn't forget were there. Mahiru had taken the burnt of an attack meant for that unlucky black cat to spare his friends, who had been in the line of fire.

Belkia had called Mahiru a traitor then, and so the boy took up the role, blanketing the humans on the street in a shield of snow. Mahiru fought alongside that murderer and had the impudence to be pleased that he was going against what was expected of him. So that was it, then. That was how it ended. Not with a hug, not with a dance to the death, but a simple, "I am going with you," spoken to the enemy.

Such defiance that it made him laugh, and if he was crying that was a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be honest with you: Tsubaki is an utter pain to write. While I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, it has been the longest one I've written to date and I am happy that I was able to finish it. It's great to be able to say 'I completed this story!' Regardless of what I need to work on to improve.
> 
> By the way, I am rubbish at poetry. And the haiku used? Famous works by Kobayashi Issa (the wren) and Matsuo Bashō (the cicada). 
> 
> I will be writing some of the Subclass adventures and bonding fun times in a separate story, sort of a series of one-shots more than anything else, but I'm still up in the air on whether I'll make a second part for the main storyline (to follow along with canon). I suppose time will tell. 
> 
> Now, on to other stories~


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